Of Feather Trees and Mistletoe
by Linstock
Summary: In which Kirk gets his own way, McCoy is helped without his knowledge, Uhura reveals  her  affection for an amphibian and Spock voluntarily engages in a PDA .  This was written for the lovely ladymac111 as part of the Spock/Uhura Christmas Exchange 2011


**Title:** Of Feather Trees and Mistletoe. 

**Author:** Linstock

**Prompt by:** ladymac111

**Code:** Spock/Uhura

**Rating:** G

**Type:** Romance/humour

AN: This was written for the lovely ladymac111 as part of the Spock/Uhura Christmas Exchange 2011. It was nobly beta edited by the incomparable SpockLikesCats ... a big ask in this busy time of year.

_Ladymac111 wanted:_  
>1. Holiday theme (bonus points for more than one winter holiday!), 2. Bones grouching to Kirk about something trivial, 3. Spock being wary of PDA<p>

_And didn't want:_  
>1. Angst , 2. Politics, 3. Unhappy endings.<p>

**Of Feather Trees and Mistletoe**

"The bigger the better!" Captain Kirk's vehement statement carried across the crowded mess "Size does matter." He and Dr McCoy were leaning toward each other over their meal trays as their conversation became progressively more heated. The other occupants of the mess were trying very hard not to show they were listening.

"But there are limits! Be reasonable, man!" The doctor's voice was a frustrated hiss. He flopped back, arms crossed in evident exasperation, addressing no one in particular. "But who'm I talking to - when did James Tiberius Kirk _ever_ know the meaning of 'moderation'?"

"There's a time for moderation,but this is not it! The bigger the better - more is good - it can't be too big." Kirk waggled his eyebrows provokingly. His voice dropped a little and there was a trace of a whine as he said, "Come on, Bones, you know I've always preferred big ones. I've never made any secret of it - small ones just don't _do_ it for me. Is it really too much to ask?" Kirk was astonishingly good at the expression of boyish wistfulness.

Too good. McCoy's voice showed all his exasperation. "Infant! Consider the space available and show some common sense. If something gets broken, don't come cryin' to me. "

"Now, Bones, no need to be sulky. I'm sure you'll figure it out, all that medical training must have taught you about getting big things through small openings. I know there are size constraints. But just think of it, huge, filling all the available space." Jim Kirk gives a soft but clearly audible sigh. "So finesse it or just ram it in, do what you need to do, find one and make it fit."

Their voices dropped and for a while only snatches of conversation could be overheard, "species" ... "equipment" ... "maneuvering" ... "thrust" ... Then the doctor's disgruntled voice rose again. "Why not just transport the fool thing?" He slapped his hands on the table. "Anyway, this should be Spock's job. He's your first officer, which is fancy talk for executive officer, and if anyone can execute this operation - calculate size, capacity and coordinates, it's the hobgoblin."

"Bones, Bones, this isn't about mere math. You have to understand the nuances … the _passion_. Would you say that nuances and passion were Spock's strong points?"

Dr McCoy grumbled something that could have been "Hell, no." After a moment he said, "Jim, be reasonable - I'll find something more moderately sized - the effect will be the same."

Kirk's eyes sparkled. "That's where you're wrong, Bones, the effect _won't_ be the same, not at all. I've told you this before – it's the feeling of awe at the sheer _size_ of the thing, I love it. You may say I'm an infant - " Dr McCoy had been drawing breath, probably to do just that - "But I can't help it, and I don't want to change my request. You have your orders, Doctor. I know I can rely on you."

Dr McCoy stood up abruptly to escape Kirk's "full charm" effect and departed, all the while keeping up a consistent monologue: "I'm a doctor, goddamit – I've got better – more _important_ things to do than to go on a wild goose chase - a _giant_ wild goose at that – what the hell does he think Starfleet pays me for—" and the doors mercifully closed behind him.

The captain calmly finished his morning coffee, stood and walked out of the mess. On his way he noticed several crew members nervously avoiding his eyes. Some appeared to be having massive attacks of sudden coughing. Strange, but he had more pressing matters to think about .

=/\=

A few tables away from the captain and the doctor, Commander Spock studied his ko-kugalsu*. She appeared to be having some sort of fit. He was reassured by the sensation of mirth that fizzing across the light bond they shared. If he'd had to rely solely on visual input, her highly coloured face, watering eyes and convulsive shoulder movements combined with her evident inability to speak would've caused him concern.

"I fail to understand why their ongoing disagreement about the size of the proposed festival tree causes you such amusement," Spock stated. This seemed to make matters worse and Nyota actually put her head down on the table and underwent what looked like a bout of hiccupping.

It was completely illogical. Spock doubted he would ever fully grasp human humour.

**=/\=**

James Kirk loved Christmas trees, it wasn't so much Christmas itself as the tree. One of his earliest happy childhood memories, from when he was about four, was standing in front of a huge Christmas tree that stretched high up towards the ceiling, covered in colored lights, spangles and glittering balls with small red bows decorating the end of every branch. On the very top perched a perfect golden star. He stood in awe before this glittering wonderful thing and at that moment he believed anything was possible. It was _magical_. Barefooted, in his spaceman pajamas, he drank in the sight and sighed, "Wow." Beside him, his mother got down on one knee, ruffled his already tousled blond hair and whispered, "Do you like it?"

"It's really beautiful," he replied and she kissed him on his cheek, still soft and warm from sleep.

He looked at her, the loving stranger who was his mother. She was scarcely less miraculous than the tree. She lived amongst the stars, and like the fairies in his story Padds occasionally visited the mortal people on Earth. This year she was home for Christmas with her boys. Uncle Frank took off with Dad's car to wherever he went when Mom came home. It was a wonderful time. Every day the three of them talked and cooked or explored and every evening, as they played family games or watched a holo, the tree towered over them with lights sparkling in the dark like stars, working its benevolent magic, giving the house the smell of balsam.

As the weeks passed the tree began to drop its needles, and the sadness slowly returned to his mother's eyes. One day she helped remove the decorations and pack them carefully in their boxes before they dragged the tree into the yard next to the wood pile. The next day she told them she was leaving and within a week she was gone, with grudging Uncle Frank her substitute.

During the years that followed that small boy had most of the innocence and wonder knocked out of him. He grew into a rebellious teenager, then a defiant a young man ... but he never lost that sense of magical wonderment when he saw a Christmas tree.

**=/\=**

You'd think it would be easy.

All he'd done was suggest that they have a winter festival. He knew winter was at a different time on every planet and there was no winter in space, but they were due for an all-of-crew celebration. It helped build the team, cement relationships and improve work efficiency, sure ... _and_ it would get the Captain what he wanted. So he'd called a meeting, as a good captain should, with representatives from all the different human ethnicities and crewmembers of other races and made the suggestion.

You'd think it would be easy - you'd be wrong.

Everything must be inclusive, no minority group left out or disrespected. The process of finding common ground was exhausting. He'd say one thing - the meeting had been very informative. He now knew more about winter festivals on Earth and practically every other planet in the Federation than he had ever known before.

Humans made up the majority of the crew so they looked at Earth-based celebrations first. Most cultures had some sort of winter solstice celebration, religious or secular, and most new year celebrations roughly coincided with this time, emphasizing the turning of the year with the death of winter and the rebirth of the sun.

Religious festivals included Christmas - early missionaries had cannily layered it over a much older Yule festival – Amaterasu, the Japanese celebration of return of the light, Deepavali, the Hindu celebration of lights; Dongzhi, the East Asian, ditto; Hannukah, the Jewish, ditto; Hogmanay, one that Scotty would definitely celebrate, as it involved the gift of whisky; Junkanoo, from Jamaica and the Bahamas, which had no religious overtones but was a parade festival featuring elaborate costumes Kirk couldn't wait to see, if anybody cared to dress up. Of course folk from the Southern Hemisphere of Earth wanted their mid-winter celebration in June of the ship's year and Kirk readily agreed; any excuse for a shipwide party was just fine with him.

Celebrations of other planets were included. The Andorians' _Temp'letan_ seemed very much like a variation on winter solstice and emphasized the pitched battle between the mythical ice clan and fire clan, featuring icicles and fire balls as the weapons of choice.

_Wa-niftal_ was the Orion celebration of new life at the end of winter. It featured many small fires lit in special bowls. You didn't have to be a xeno-anthropologist to figure out how they celebrated; after all, there had to be _some_ means of engendering new life. While Kirk was agreeable to a ship-wide party, he doubted they were ready for a ship-wide orgy. He could, however, certainly relate to – and possibly celebrate, should he have the honour extended to him - what Orions and their partners chose to do in private.

As the group discussed the traditions of various species on the ship, commonalities emerged: most winter celebrations featured idiosyncratic decorations or dress, songs or chants of the festival, symbolic decorative use of vegetation of some kind, the gathering of families or clans, and _eating_. Which Kirk also anticipated with pleasure. He supposed xeno-anthropologists of all races had written many theses about all these phenomena, but it seemed simple. Sentient creatures experiencing weather forcing them indoors for prolonged periods go a little stir crazy, and so lighten up and have a party.

The possible exception was Vulcans; they didn't have a festival - they had Kal Rekk, a day of solitary mediation, fasting and silence - followed by Kafusik, or "day of shame", when one made ritualized apology to those effected by for any errors in logic during the past year. It sounded like an awfully somber time. Although Kirk thought the third and final day had some potential - evidently unbonded family members cared for the clan's children, so bonded couples could spend the day alone. But, being Vulcan, they no doubt spent their time discussing how to be more logical next year.

At last, the committee had come into accord, and started planning a fully inclusive winter festival. A decorations committee was convened, and much to everyone's surprise, Kirk charged Doctor McCoy with procuring the centerpiece of the decorations, a large Christmas tree. They wouldn't call it that of course, but that's what it was for Kirk.

=/\=

Nyota was waiting, Spock knew she was waiting, Nyota knew that Spock knew. She also knew that he needed time; he would speak when he was ready and not before. Any attempt to hurry him would be counterproductive. She'd sensed his disquiet towards the end of the meeting the captain had chaired concerning the "winter celebration". So now Spock was meditating and she sat reviewing her day's reports, waiting.

Vulcans didn't "dread", it was illogical to experience emotion concerning an event which had not yet occurred; anticipatory dread was therefore not what Spock was experiencing. He'd lived amongst humans long enough to become familiar with their Christmas rituals, and no matter how Captain Kirk tried to dress this planned event up as a "winter festival" it bore a strong resemblance to a Christmas celebration. Spock had no objection to the symbolic tree, or the social gathering, but he had grave reservations about mistletoe.

He'd first encountered this problematic vegetation as a new cadet at Starfleet Academy. Although his mother was human, his family didn't celebrate Terran holidays. Spock, therefore, arrived uninformed concerning mistletoe. He vividly remembered his first mistletoe encounter. He'd entered a classroom and noted a small bunch of green leaves with white berries hanging above the doorway. Without warning a female cadet pounced on him and planted a kiss right on his lips. Shocked at this appalling breach of etiquette, he stood frozen. She took this is encouragement or at least acquiescence, and continued with the kiss, as his classmates cheered and stamped.

Nor was this an isolated incident.

Spock became wary of mistletoe. His eidectic memory allowed him to remember the location of every bunch of the pesky vegetation. He developed intricate "flight plans" to navigate the Academy corridors without further mistletoe encounters. Even this did not guarantee safety. Some of the more persistent female students took to carrying bunches with them: on one occasion in the language lab a student whom he'd previously thought quite intelligent bounced out of her seat holding a bunch of mistletoe over his head. Swift evasive action meant the kiss caught him on the forehead, not the mouth, but it was a narrow escape.

Spock was unused to such concerted assaults upon his person. Somehow the fact that it was the holiday period meant cadets who normally respected his personal boundaries suddenly forgot all that they had learned and kissed him, or tried to. He wasn't the only victim, but other students seemed to welcome these assaults. It had been a trying exhausting time to the young Spock and not one he ever wanted to repeat.

Yet here he was, light years from Earth, the captain plotting to celebrate "mid-winter holidays", and as night followed day this meant Spock would encounter mistletoe. Now his situation had changed - it had been bad enough _before_, but the thought of anybody else touching him in an intimate way was frankly abhorrent. Nyota alone had that right.

Nyota looked up as Spock entered the room and sat beside her on the lounge. She laid her Padd on the low table, indicating that she was giving him her full attention.

"I wish to discuss the matter of mistletoe."

Nyota smiled to herself: _so that's what's been bothering him!_ She understood why that particular human ritual was problematic for Spock.

"Given the proposed winter festival celebrations. It is logical to assume that mistletoe, or a facsimile thereof, will be amongst the decorations. In the past, under the malignant influence of this vegetation, those normally respectful have often taken physical liberties with my person."

Nyota knew she couldn't smile; to Spock this wasn't funny and he didn't mean to sound pompous. Also she didn't much like the thought of other crew members smooching her man. Spock wasn't the only one who was possessive.

Spock continued, "I don't understand this behavior. I have noted a higher number of kissing attempts directed toward me than the average directed towards others. I fail to understand why this would be so. Can you assist?"

_Could it be 'cause you're sexy as hell?_ "I think there are three factors involved," began Nyota, keeping her tone factual, "for one thing, you consistently underestimate your physical attractiveness: Added to this there is the mystique of your alien ancestry, to say nothing of the allure of your pointed ears."

"You fail to take this seriously." Spock said.

"Not at all, I am quite serious." replied Nyota, placing a kiss on one of the pointed ears.

"You mention three factors?" Spock was clearly not in the mood for ear kissing.

Nyota settled back on the lounge, took his hand in hers and stroked his palm gently with both her thumbs she spoke. "I think the other factor is the 'Frog Prince Syndrome'."

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow.

Nyota continued, "There is a Terran fairy story in which a noble Prince is turned into a frog by a bad fairy and can only be restored to his true form by the kiss of a Princess, with a capital 'P'."

A faint crease appeared between Spock's eyebrows as he considered. "In this scenario, am I the frog?"

Nyota beamed at him; he really was getting much better at understanding metaphors.

"That's exactly it! You are the frog, metaphorically speaking, just awaiting the Princess' kiss to become a Prince."

"But I was not _turned into_ a 'frog'. I am a 'frog', I have always been a 'frog', and when kissed, regardless of the social status of the kisser, I remain a 'frog'." He paused before continuing, "Although Vulcans have no royalty, some would claim that I am equivalent to a Prince because my clan is directly descended from Surak. Furthermore, there are no princesses on the ship; indeed there are only four crewmembers who could lay claim to any sort of royal status." Nyota mentally marked that comment to be followed up later, but at the moment she didn't want to be distracted.

"It's a fantasy, Spock, it has nothing to do with reality. We are talking archetypes. In this fantasy, if the person doing the kissing is somehow ultra feminine, or an _uber- _woman, then you'll be magically transformed."

"In what way?"

Nyota spoke sadly. "Into a human, I suppose, most likely one madly in love with the person doing the kissing." She was shaking her head. "It's as if they think you're somehow trapped in a Vulcan shell but inside you really are a human just waiting for someone to set you free by the power of their Princess-ship."

Spock was definitely frowning now. When he spoke his voice was thoughtful. "This then was the meaning behind Ensign Chan's comment to Ensign Patel. I could make no sense of her words at the time."

Nyota cocked her head in enquiry.

"They were talking in the passageway while I was in the store room, obviously unaware of my presence. Your name caught my attention; as soon as I realized it was a private conversation I ceased listening, nonetheless, I heard."

Nyota felt a unpleasant suspicion. "And what did Ensign Chan have to say?"

"She expressed doubt that ours was a real relationship; it was her opinion that you were not 'woman enough' for me as evidenced by my still-Vulcan demeanor." Spock was frowning now. "You are demonstratively 'one hundred percent female' and it is illogical to argue otherwise, and no fish are involved in our relationship, cold or otherwise. If I am correct in understanding what you said, the ensign inferred that your femininity is not of 'Princess quality'." Spock said the last words carefully, trying out the idea.

Nyota seethed. Spock took her hand and raised it to his lips in his fingertips.

"I regret that I have upset you, ashayam. I shouldn't have related an overheard conversation, I was in error." A thought occurred to him. "Do you entertain the wish that I would cease to be a 'frog'?"

Gazing at him, Nyota smiled and shook her head. "My wish was granted." She leaned up and kissed him softly. "See? After a kiss, you stay exactly as you are. That's who I want - who I fell in love with - what possible reason could I have to change you?"

"Am I to understand, then, that you like 'frogs'?" inquired Spock, a glitter in his eye.

Nyota relaxed, smiling. "Oh, I'm _very_ fond of frogs, especially pale green ones with pointy ears."

"Frogs don't have external ears."

"Don't spoil my mental picture," said Nyota with a cheeky smile.

=/\=

Later that evening, when they lay together, Spock cradling Nyota's head on his shoulder, he raised an issue that caused him some confusion. "Why has Captain Kirk assigned the task of procuring the tree to Doctor McCoy? Of all the senior crew he's probably least suited to undertake the task."

Drawing lazy circles on Spock's taut belly, Nyota sleepily explained, "He wanted to irritate the Doctor."

"Then he succeeded admirably. Was this his sole purpose?"

"Yes and noooo," the last word was all but swallowed up by a yawn.

"Clarify." He softened the request by tenderly placing a kiss on the crown of Nyota's head.

"If you wanted to interrogate me you should've done it before you exhausted me," Nyota replied in a sleepily contented voice and wriggled against him, her usual prelude to sleep.

Just when Spock had given up on receiving a reply, her sleep-slurred voice mumbled, "McCoy hates Christmash ... he misses his little girl soooo mush ... at the academy he'd get drunk for days. Scared Kirk to see him like tha' ... Kirsh just trying to 'stract him ... keep him busy 'n mad 'n keep 'im shober ..." her voice trailed away and her hand stilled.

Spock placed his hand gently over hers and closed his eyes. His body still resonated with their loving. He gently brushed against that place in his mind that was hers alone and felt her warmth; ashal-veh3, petakov4 ... Ensign Chan and any others who thought like her were wrong - he had his princess**. **

As he relaxed, closer to sleep, his mind wandered to Dr McCoy. He understood now. If keeping the doctor busy and frustrated was in the doctor's best interest, Spock felt he was well qualified to assist.

**=/\=**

It was _perfect_.

Captain James Kirk stood in the large multipurpose open bay. It had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Holographic snowflakes fluttered down from the high ceiling and disappeared just above head height. Scents of balsam wafted through the air. In the centre of the room stood the most miraculously perfect Christmas tree he had ever seen. It was covered in glowing pendulous glittering icicles and fiery red orbs ...a nod to the Andorians. .Strings of popcorn saluted both Christmas and harvest celebration traditions, and on the end of each branch was a shining red bow. Kirk hoped they were a "message" from Bones, showing he understood and, perhaps, forgave Kirk for the weeks of irritation this tree had caused him.

It really didn't matter that the "needles" looked like feathers and that the tree was shaded from light mauve at the branch tips to deep purple near the trunk, or that it showed signs of trimming to achieve the conical shape ... Jim felt the magic.

Evidently so did others. All around the large dimly lit room the crew were clustered in groups around the various tables, explaining to each other the meanings of the various decorations. Candles abounded, some in rows surrounding sand paintings on the floor, some scented pillars with single flames and some elaborate multi-branched candelabras and menorahs. Scents of numerous incense sticks and trays of food (Kirk helped himself several times to Yeoman Rand's delicious butter cookies and Ensign Weinstein's crispy coconut macaroons) blended pleasantly with the buzz of voices. Later in the evening a series of parades and dances was scheduled. Captain Kirk sighed with deep contentment.

Topping the tree was an Orion Wa-niftal bowl. The flames leaped up to lick the ceiling of the cargo bay. The tall flames didn't scorch because there was no fire - it was a hologram skillfully produced by Mr Scott. Captain Kirk's eyes flew open - did he see what he thought he saw? He stared up at the dancing flames - there it was again - a figure, no, two … now he'd seen them, he saw more and they appeared to be ... _celebrating_ Wa-niftal. His gaze flicked around the crowd and located Mr Scott, surrounded by female Orion crew members, who were all being very attentive. The captain caught Mr Scott's eye. Scotty shrugged, grinning and mouthed "I like this ship!" Kirk could only shake his head and grin ruefully.

=/\=

Commander Spock stood in his habitual pose, hands clasped behind his back, looking upwards. Lieutenant Uhura stood beside him, gazing at the fiery bowl on top of the tree. arms hanging at her sides a little stiffly. She was resisting the urge to point.

"Fascinating - Mr Scott has created a credible replica of a Wa-niftal bowl and ..." Spock commented

"I see the 'and'," Nyota interrupted in stark disbelief, "how'd he get away with it?"

Spock raised an expressive eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

They stood in silence for a while.

Looking at her from the corner of his eye, Spock said, "I note the complete absence of mistletoe in this room or, indeed, anywhere in the ship. I have been vigilant. "

Nyota made a non committal, "humm."

"I thought it unusual, although I do not complain. I checked the decoration committee minutes."

"Really?"

"Indeed. It appears one of the Orion crew members discovered some historical information concerning mistletoe which caused great concern."

"Hummm?"

""The information claimed the ancient Europeans Druids considered mistletoe the spiritual and sexual essence of the scared oak. A resemblance between the white berries or the liquid they exude when crushed and droplets of human semen may partly explain the sexual the link . The ritual of cutting the mistletoe from the oak came to symbolize emasculation possibly of the tree or of the winter deity.

It did not matter that the information appears little more than historical conjecture and no original sources verify the information. The Orions consider genital mutilation of any sort the most profound transgression imaginable. They were outraged and insisted all mistletoe related customs stuck from the celebration. They were most adamant."

"I see."

Spock looked at Uhura's impassive face as she continued feigning indifference.

In a softer voice he said, "I thank you, ashayam. You have the makings of a diplomat."

She smiled at him. "You are most welcome."

Spock continued gazing at Nyota. He unclasped his hands, letting them fall to his sides, then slowly reached over and interlaced his fingers with hers. He felt the snap of her surprise through their bond, then the warm glow of her happiness. At the same time as he felt her cool hand tighten, returning his grip. It was such a small, human gesture, holding hands. A public demonstration of affection, but a quiet one - it cost him nothing and made Nyota happy. As they stood side by side holding hands, getting used to the feel of it, Spock decided it was not unpleasant.

=/\=

Captain Kirk noticed his first officer and communications specialist quietly holding hands, another instance of magic if ever he saw one.

He moved quietly though the crowd to stand behind Dr McCoy, listening as Bones retold the saga of the Christmas tree to Sulu. Kirk noted that as the story progressed the tree went from being "that blasted tree" to "my tree". He smiled to himself.

"Seemed like every darn plant I found, Spock had a reason why it was unsuitable - it caused allergies, it posed an unacceptable fire risk, it dropped its leaves in 48 hours of having the roots disturbed, it was endangered, it was sacred to some obscure sect or other - anyone would think he was trying to make it difficult." McCoy shook his head ruefully. "I was convinced I'd have to have to use a hologram and be damned what the Captain said."

Kirk stepped up and clapped Bones on the shoulder, making him jump. "But it all worked out in the end."

"Thanks to Sulu here," the doctor mumbled, gesturing at the tree."Who'd'a thought _that_ was a weed? Biggest darn weed I ever saw. I'd run out of options when a message came in from Sulu suggesting I consider acquiring a Feather tree, and the rest was - well it was a pain in the butt," he groused, "but we succeeded and it sure is something."

The doctor was admiring the tree and missed the conspiratorial look that passed between Kirk and Sulu.

"So all's well that ends well?" asked Kirk.

McCoy was quiet for a moment and then said flatly, "Jo would love this tree." Then his gaze focused - he did a double take, his eyes grew wide and his nostrils flared. "Who put that X-rated monstrosity on top of my tree?"

Then he was off, storming across the room in search of Mr Scott.

=/\=

ko-kugalsu: fiancée female.

kafusik:ashamed, feeling shame or guilt; feeling inferior, inadequate, or embarrassed.

ashal-veh:darling; term of endearment (noun)

petakov:darling, dearly loved

-The Vulcan /vld/

**About Mistletoe. **

**Spock is correct in thinking that this is not well referenced research. Nonetheless, I did not make this up the references will not show on FF but if it interests you please go to my LJ or dreamwidth account for active links. … **

In cultures across pre-Christian Europe, mistletoe was seen as a representation of divine male essence (and thus romance, fertility and vitality), possibly due to a resemblance between the berries and semen.[13][14]

.org/wiki/Mistletoe

The Druids are thought to have believed that the berries of the mistletoe represented the sperm of the Gods. When pressed, a semen like substance issues from the white berries.

./articles/mythology_

**The Mistletoe Magic :…** From the earliest times mistletoe has been one of the most magical, mysterious, and sacred plants of European folklore ... The mistletoe of the sacred oak was especially sacred to the ancient Celtic Druids. On the sixth night of the moon white-robed Druid priests would cut the oak mistletoe with a golden sickle. Two white bulls would be sacrificed amid prayers that the recipients of the mistletoe would prosper. Later, the ritual of cutting the mistletoe from the oak came to symbolize the emasculation of the old King by his successor. Mistletoe was long regarded as both a sexual symbol and the "soul" of the oak.

.

AN: I'd love to hear what you thought. Your comment help me improve and keep me energized and besides it a nice thing to do, a gift you can give that cost nothing!

Happy New Year.


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